


for every king that died (they would crown another)

by villklovn



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clones, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Needs A Hug, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson Needs a Drink, Hank Anderson Needs a Hug, Kinda?, Memory Loss, Poor Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Temporary Amnesia, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25270186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/villklovn/pseuds/villklovn
Summary: Five months after the revolution, everything seems to be looking up. Android rights are getting recognized and Connor has moved in with Hank. Life is surprisingly good.Then, one day, Connor dies. His failing systems automatically initiate a memory transfer to a new model. Connor gets repaired, and wakes up to half of his memories gone. Another Connor wakes up in a pod at CyberLife.OrConnor-51 and Connor-52 walk into a bar. It’s not as funny as it sounds.
Relationships: Connor & Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & North (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 41
Kudos: 71
Collections: New ERA Discord: Reverse Big Bang





	1. felled in the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FromSubmarinesToROVs (DemiPalladium)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemiPalladium/gifts).



> This is my entry for the New Era: Reverse Big Bang! Also, my first foray into this fandom. (I'm not terrified at all, nope.)
> 
> This work is based on the beautiful art made by [Lin](https://www.instagram.com/p/CCoyu8vDnFA/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link). Their art will be embedded in the next chapters! I'm so thankful I got to work with such a talented artist and overall lovely person, please give them some love <3 
> 
> Also many thanks to my wonderful friend [Demi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemiPalladium/pseuds/FromSubmarinesToROVs), whose ideas are the basis for this fic. I really recommend checking out her works, too!
> 
> I didn't expect this to be so long. It be like that sometimes, huh. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“We really need to get you some new clothes.”  
  
North’s tone is teasing, her lips pulled into a small smile. She’s leaning on the wall opposite to him, hands playing with the end of her braid. Her voice almost echoes in the empty corridor.  
  
Connor turns to face her, tilting his head to the side. “What’s wrong with my clothes?” he asks, frowning. He doesn’t understand what issue she could have with them. They’re functional and more than adequate for the occasion. The brown leather jacket might be slightly worn out, but it’s a gift from Hank. It was the first gift he ever received. It’s comfortable, soft, and it keeps him warm.   
  
A soft snort. “Nothing wrong with them. In _winter_. It’s June, I’m sure your databases can tell you that leather isn’t exactly fitting for this weather,” she answers, one eyebrow raised.  
  
He frowns, LED blinking yellow for a millisecond. She’s right.

 **[COLLECTING DATA…]**  
  
**SEARCH: AVERAGE WEATHER IN DETROIT, MI, US** **_  
“In Detroit, the summers are warm, the winters are freezing and windy, and it is partly cloudy year-round. Over the course of the year…”_ **  
  
**SUB-SEARCH: AVERAGE WEATHER IN JUNE** **  
_“Daily high temperatures increase by 7°F, from 75°F to 82°F…”_ **

**[SCANNING…]**  
**  
ANALYZE: ENVIRONMENT  
**  
**HOUR: 10.15 AM**  
**TEMPERATURE: 72° F**  
**WEATHER: SUNNY**  
**_  
“70-degree weather is summer weather. No need to wear layers of thick fabric. Find something that will keep you cool. It can get humid at this time of the year…”_ **

**[COLLECTING DATA…]  
** **  
_“Leather jackets have great thermostatic properties. They are surprisingly warm.”_ **

**[PROCESSING…]**

His arms cross, hands clenching the fabric tightly. “Human standards don’t apply to us. Heat and cold don’t affect us the same way. Wearing leather won’t be a problem for me,” he replies. For some reason, North’s observation makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t really _feel_ cold or warmth, meaning that there is no logical explanation for him wanting to wear warmer clothes.   
  
**LEVEL OF STRESS: ^ 15%  
  
**He knows he doesn’t like the cold. He knows _why_. Or, at least, he thinks he does. It’s illogical, and **[REDACTED]** would consider it a disgrace, if she knew about it.  
  
Hank says that illogical thoughts and fears are part of being human. He tends to prefer simpler terms and concepts, which is why Connor gave up on explaining to him _why_ , exactly, androids aren’t comparable to humans. They are alive, and they are equal to them, but they’re _not_ the same. When he talked to Markus about it, the RK200 said Hank was right, if inexact. Machines are perfectly logical. Humans and other living beings are not. Connor isn’t human, but he’s alive. A dislike for the cold, even when he can’t feel it, is illogical, but it’s alright. It means he’s alive.   
  
North must notice his discomfort. “Well, you can get other warm jackets, if you want. I just think a bit of variety would help,” she says, her tone softer. Connor meets her eyes, and she smiles at him. “I’m not half bad at picking outfits. I can help you with it, if you want. No offense, but the old man doesn’t look like an expert in fashion.”  
  
Connor sees this for what it is: she’s offering him an olive branch. He likes North, she’s witty and sharp and passionate, but he knows she struggled to trust him, at first. She still does, sometimes. He also knows she feels guilty about it, despite his reassurances that he understands. (He wouldn’t easily trust himself, either.)  
  
**LEVEL OF STRESS: v 10%  
  
****North: FRIEND ^** **  
  
**“I’d like that,” he offers back, relaxing. “Thank you.”  
  
He smiles back at her. There are hundreds of small, synthetic muscles in his face that work to form the expression. He doesn’t know if it’s by design, by mistake, or if it’s a quirk that came with deviancy, but his smile is slightly crooked to one side. Hank says it makes him look even goofier than before.  
  
“Guys?” comes Josh’s voice from their side. He’s standing near the door, looking at them expectantly.   
  
Connor likes Josh. He’s nice. He’s also very, _very_ clever, patient, and good at diplomacy. As a negotiator, Connor appreciates that quality – Josh doesn’t have it programmed in him, he developed it on his own. Connor is still learning about his own personality, what makes him _him_ , where CyberLife’s programming ends and _Connor_ starts. Josh has been a great help in this. Every now and then, Connor will visit New Jericho and Josh will sit down with him to talk. Josh tries to get Connor to explain how he feels and helps him make sense of it, and Connor asks him questions on things he can’t figure out. It was hard, at first, to trust someone he didn’t know well. But they’re friends, now, and Josh and the others all helped him grow a lot.  
  
In the months following the revolution, Markus and the rest of the crew worked tirelessly to get android rights recognized as fast as possible. They still have a long way to go, but their progress has been shockingly fast. In less than half a year, they went from being considered glorified appliances, to being granted jobs with an adequate wage, the permission to own a house, and even the possibility of registering surnames.   
  
Connor tries to join them on official New Jericho business, as often as he can. He’s not as involved as Josh, Simon, or North are, given that his job at the DPD takes most of his time, but he feels a sort of responsibility towards them all. It doesn’t matter how many times Markus, Hank, or the others tell him he’s wrong. It’s still his fault that Jericho was attacked and so many deviants lost their lives. Not to mention the fact that he chased after them and terrorized them for months. Helping out is the _least_ he can do.  
  
“Everything ready?” asks North, pulling away from the wall. “I want to be done with this _fast_. This place gives me the creeps.”

 **[SCANNING…]  
  
** **LEVEL OF STRESS: WR400 #641 790 831 - “North”…**

**[…SCAN INTERRUPTED]  
**

“Yes, we’re ready. Are you guys sure you don’t want to be there, too?” Josh replies, nodding towards the room on the other side of the open door, where the interview will take place.  
  
From where they’re standing, hidden from the cameras, Connor can see the stage where Simon is helping Markus with the microphone. Markus always appears confident when he addresses the public or the press, but he told Connor, once, that he’s actually terrified. He doesn’t like the responsibility that comes with being the main figurehead of the android rights movement, but he enjoys being able to help. Speaking to so many people that will carefully dissect every single word coming out of his mouth is stressful, but making a change for the better is worth it, he says.   
  
Connor admires that. He craves that sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. He’s never quite happy with what he does, always falling short of his own expectations. Hank says it’s because he’s too hard on himself, but if anything, Connor thinks he’s too lax. Surely, if he gives himself higher standards, he’s bound to do something right, for once.  
  
“Nah, Josh, I’ll pass,” North says, shaking her head. “You know I don’t like being the center of attention. Especially if the attention comes from humans. Let Markus do his thing, and you and Simon can have fun hanging out in front of the cameras, for once. I’ll just be here,” she says, gesturing around herself, “with the best detective in town keeping me company,” she finishes, winking at Connor.  
  
Josh rolls his eyes and looks at Connor, exasperated. Connor’s lips twitch into another smile. He’s been smiling more, lately. Maybe Hank is right, maybe he really is starting to get the hand of this _‘emotional crap’_.  
  
“We’ll be fine,” he says, softly. “Be careful,” he adds. North looks at him with a raised eyebrow. She often calls him a ‘mother hen’, but his worry is entirely justified. While a lot of humans have warmed up to the idea of androids being their equals, there are also many protesters, some of which can get violent. Connor just doesn’t want anyone to get hurt.  
  
The gun sitting against his hip is a familiar weight, almost comforting. The law allowing androids to possess firearms passed in March, earlier than the one recognizing their right to a paid job. When he told Hank about it, he just scoffed and said something along the lines of _‘fucking Americans’_.  
  
Josh nods at them, turning away to join Markus and Simon. They sit down, Markus in the middle, and chat with the moderator. It’s a press conference, not as risky as a public speech, but still likely to get messy.   
  
Connor walks closer to where they’re sitting, still keeping himself hidden from the cameras, just behind the door. He makes sure to keep an eye on the journalists. If someone is hiding a weapon, he has to be ready to intervene.  
  
**[MISSION OBJECTIVE: PROTECT MARKUS]**

**[MISSION OBJECTIVE: PROTECT SIMON AND JOSH]**

**[MISSION OBJECTIVE: PROTECT UNARMED HUMANS]  
  
**“You know, it’s not like we want you here to look after us,” North says from behind him. He turns his head slightly in acknowledgment, but keeps his eyes directed to the mass of journalists. “We want you to be here because you’re _one of us_. Not to be our guard dog,” she continues.  
  
Connor risks shifting his gaze for a moment. “…I know,” he says, and he knows she noticed that moment of hesitation. “But can you blame me for wanting to protect my friends?” he asks, voice faltering slightly, near the end. He considers them his friends, but he hasn’t often addressed them as such.   
  
North’s eyes meet his. “No,” she answers, softly. He turns away, looking at the crowd again. “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”  
  
She has always been firmly against his decision to live with Hank. She has grown somewhat tolerant of the lieutenant, during their limited interactions, but she still struggles with trusting humans. Connor doesn’t hold it against her. She wants him to be safe, and ‘human’ equals ‘unsafe’ for her. More than once, she has told him he’s welcome to stay at New Jericho. She seems to think he doesn’t want to join them because he feels like an outsider. She’s not entirely wrong, but the main reason is that he actually enjoys spending time with Hank. They need each other more than he needs being around other androids.  
  
The conference begins, so he chooses not to reply. He hopes she doesn’t mind.

**[SCANNING…]  
**  
**ANALYZE: ENVIRONMENT  
**  
**HOUR: 10.30 AM  
TEMPERATURE: …**

**[REDIRECTING…]  
**  
**OCCUPANTS: 63 HUMANS, 11 ANDROIDS**

**[REDIRECTING…]  
**  
**AUTHORIZED ARMED INDIVIDUALS: 20 HUMANS, 0 ANDROIDS**

**[REDIRECTING…]  
**  
**UNAUTHORIZED ARMED–**

The scan is interrupted by his audio processors picking up a whistling sound. _Shit._

**[SCANNING…]  
**  
**ANALYZE: MOVING OBJECT  
**  
**OBJECT: .355in BULLET  
WEIGHT: 115 gr  
VELOCITY: 365 m/s  
DIRECTION: …**

**[PRECONSTRUCTING…]**

**[…PRECONSTRUCTION COMPLETE]  
**

Connor doesn’t call out. He doesn’t have the time. The moment the preconstruction ends, he’s running across the stage. His main objective keeps flashing on the corner of his HUD. **  
**  
**[MISSION OBJECTIVE: PROTECT MARKUS]  
  
**He barely makes it there in time. He lunges, feet first, kicking the chair Markus is sitting on, moving it slightly. It’s not much, but it’s enough for the bullet to strike the RK200 in the shoulder, rather than the left side of the chest, where it would have had a 98% chance of hitting the thirium pump.  
  
Fresh thirium splashes on the side of Connor’s face, but he pays it no mind. He tunes out the screams of the crowd and Markus’ shocked gasp. He ignores the voice that yells _“Markus!”_ from behind him – nothing matters right now, aside from the sound of _another bullet being shot_.  
  
There is no time to analyze its direction. He decides to ‘follow his gut’. That’s what deviants do, isn’t it? What they _feel_ is right, rather than what their programming tells them to do? He knows, by logic, that the shooter will be aiming for Markus again.  
  
He stands up and drags the other android out of the chair and down to the floor, covering him with his body.  
  
Wide, mismatched eyes meet his. _I’m sorry_ , he wants to say. _I’m sorry you’ll have to watch someone else die_.  
  
Androids don’t feel pain. That’s a fact. Connor doesn’t feel the first bullet hit his back, or the second, or the third. His systems register them, but he doesn’t _feel_ them.

**[WARNING: VITAL SYSTEM DAMAGED]  
**  
**RUNNING: DIAGNOSTICS (RK800 #313 248 317 -51)  
**  
**BACK PANELING**  
**Status: SEVERELY DAMAGED  
**  
**ARTIFICIAL SPINE**  
**Status: SEVERELY DAMAGED  
**  
**RIGHT VENTILATION COMPONENT**  
**Status: SEVERELY DAMAGED**

**[CONTACT CYBERLIFE FOR REPAIRS]  
**  
**THIRIUM LEVELS: v 75%**

What he does feel, however, is _fear_.  
  
Androids don’t feel pain, no, but deviants _do_ feel fear. Connor has been afraid before, more than once, but never to this extent.  
  
He doesn’t want to die.  
  
**LEVEL OF STRESS: ^ 70%**

**[00:02:15 – TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN]  
**  
**THIRIUM LEVELS: v 65%**

…But what he wants never mattered much, in the past. He wonders when he started thinking it did. **  
  
[CONTACT CYBERLIFE FOR REPAIRS]  
  
**The screams of the crowd increase to a level that is almost deafening, but Connor can still hear a commotion near the place he calculated the shooter to have been.  
  
Another shot. This time, it’s far away. He can’t know for sure, but he assumes the police apprehended the perpetrator. He wonders who it was. Why did they decide to come here, shoot at the leader of the deviants, knowing they’d just end up killed? They can’t have hoped to make it out alive.

 **[00:02:00]  
  
** **THIRIUM LEVELS: v 60%**

“Markus, are you– _Connor!_ ” comes a scream from behind him. North. North is screaming. That’s bad, isn’t it?  
  
Someone grabs him and pulls him off Markus, laying him on his back. Thirium pools under him. It doesn’t hurt. Androids don’t feel pain. He looks up and sees the lights of the stage, almost blinding, framing Simon’s head as he leans over him.  
  
“Simon, is he okay?” North is still yelling, her voice shaking. Connor turns his head to see her helping Markus up. His shoulder is bleeding, and he must have hit his head when Connor pushed him to the floor because there’s a rivulet of thirium starting from his temple, tracing a path down the side of his face.  
  
Markus doesn’t say anything. He’s always the first to talk when something happens or when someone needs to be reassured, and the fact that he’s so quiet is disconcerting. Connor wants to ask him if he’s okay, but he can’t remember how to make his voice modulator work. Markus just stares at him. His eyes are wide. _I’m sorry,_ Connor thinks again.

 **[00:01:45]  
  
** **THIRIUM LEVELS: v 55%**

“– _Simon!_ ” North repeats, voice shrill.  
  
Hands gently grab his face and turn it to face the ceiling again. Simon looks at him, and then looks away, murmuring something Connor can’t hear, presumably to Josh. Where’s Josh? Is he hurt?

 **[INITIATE INTERFACE? Y/N]  
  
** **[Y]**

The synthetic skin on Connor’s cheek retracts, revealing the white chassis laying underneath it. He blinks slowly as Simon runs his own diagnostics.  
  
Looking at Simon still feels like being punched in the regulator. It feels like staring into an abyss, into terrified ice-blue eyes begging him for help. It feels like betraying someone’s trust. Simon is kind, forgiving, and welcoming. But Connor finds it hard to look at him in the eyes, usually. He looks too much like **[REDACTED]**. It fills him with… guilt? That must be it. Simon knows about it, though, and he said he doesn’t mind. That he understands, and that it’s not his fault.  
  
It’s not hard, now, to meet his eyes. **[REDACTED]** would never have looked at him like that – not like he’s afraid of him, but like he’s afraid _for_ him. This is Simon, his soft-spoken friend who always finds the time to sit down next to him, silently, whenever his stress levels get too high. This is Simon, and his eyes might be the same color as **[REDACTED]** ’s, but the look in them is nothing alike.

 **[00:01:15]  
  
** **THIRIUM LEVELS: v 45%**

The interface ends, and Connor can tell Simon is unhappy with the result, because he frowns. _It’s okay_ , Connor wants to say. _It’s okay.  
_  
Forced shutdown will occur the moment his thirium levels go below 15%.  
  
There’s thirium stuck in his throat. He can’t get it out, just like he can’t get the words out. But it’s okay, he doesn’t need to breathe.  
  
He hopes they all know that– _well_ , he’s not _okay_ with this, of course. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to die. But he hopes they know he’s glad he got to know them and he’s glad that if he dies, he’ll have died to protect a friend.  
  
**[CONTACT CYBERLIFE FOR REPAIRS]  
  
**“Simon?” this time, it’s Markus who speaks, voice low. Hesitant. It doesn’t sound like him.  
  
Connor doesn’t know what happens next, because he can’t see what they do and they don’t talk aloud.  
  
All he knows is that the sensation of urgency that reigned until a moment ago is gone, replaced by quiet. Calm. They know. He knows. It’s okay. 

**[00:00:45]  
  
** **THIRIUM LEVELS: v 35%**

A hand grabs his. It’s small, so he thinks it must be North’s. He wishes he had enough strength left to squeeze it.  
  
He also wishes he could have the time to say goodbye to Hank – properly. But it’s okay, Hank already knows everything he would say. His eyes twitch, blinking rapidly.

 **[OUTGOING MESSAGE TO: Hank]  
  
** **I’m sorry, Hank. Thank you for everything. I’m really glad I met you.**

He watches the timer count down, too fast and too slow at the same time.

 **[00:00:30]  
  
** **THIRIUM LEVELS: v 30%**

 **[INITIATE: MEMORY UPLOAD]  
  
[WARNING: CONNECTION TO CYBERLIFE SERVERS UNSTABLE]**  
  
Connor has never died before. He knows about how his system works and of their capacity to upload his memories, and he knows CyberLife had many spare RK800 models ready to replace him. He doesn’t remember what the Connors before him did, because they were testing models and their memories weren’t uploaded to him. But he knows how it’s supposed to work.  
  
He also knows it won’t work, not now. Not after deviants were officially declared a new sentient species, equal to humans, leading to CyberLife being transformed into a company meant to provide replacement parts and updates for androids, under the new CEO Elijah Kamski. Most likely, the spare RK800 were scrapped for parts during the old CyberLife’s last hours.   
  
Still, Connor’s system is trying to upload his memories. It’s automatic, and he can’t stop it. It won’t change anything, anyway.  
**  
[WARNING: RECEIVING UNIT NOT FOUND]**

 **[WARNING: ERROR]  
  
**His vision glitches, and suddenly he hears nothing but static. He closes his eyes. North’s hand tightens around his, and someone shakes his arm. He thinks he can hear voices, in the midst of the static.  
  
It’s nice. He’s not alone, at least.  
  
**[RECEIVING UNIT FOUND]**  
  
**[UPLOAD (CORRUPTED) SUCCESSFUL]**

**[00:00:00]**


	2. harder than you think (telling dreams from one another)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor wakes up. He meets Connor. And then he wakes up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so bad at updating things on a decent schedule, damn.
> 
> I am SO sorry about the wait. I have been VERY busy, but I really want to finish this fic, so I'm gonna try to work on it more regularly.
> 
> The art in this chapters is, as I said, by my wonderfully talented RBB partner [Lin](https://www.instagram.com/p/CCoyu8vDnFA/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link). Please go check their profile out, it's so worth it! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter, and sorry for the wait! <3

**[14 MISSED CALLS FROM: Hank]**

**[27 UNREAD MESSAGES FROM: Hank]**  
  


* * *

  
_Wake up._

**[MODEL: RK800]**

**[SERIAL: #313 248 317 -52]  
[DESIGNATION: CONNOR]**

**BIOS 7.4 REVISION 0483  
REBOOT...**

**[LOADING OS...]**

**[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION...]**

**CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… OK**

**INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… OK**

**INITIALIZING AI ENGINE…. OK**

**[MEMORY STATUS...]  
[WARNING: MEMORY UPLOAD CORRUPTED]  
[WARNING: ERROR]  
[REPORT ERROR TO CYBERLIFE]**

**[RUNNING: DIAGNOSTICS (RK800 #313 248 317 -52)]**

**[MEMORY BANKS]**

**Status: CORRUPTED**

**[ALL OTHER SYSTEMS]**

**Status: OK**

**[READY]  
**  
  
RK800 “Connor” #313 248 317 -52 wakes up. (It didn’t expect to, actually. But it does.)  
  
It opens its eyes to the sterile walls of CyberLife. Immediately, a warning flashes before its eyes, its LED spinning yellow.  
**  
[WARNING: CONNECTION TO CYBERLIFE SERVERS UNSTABLE]**  
  
RK800 is alone. There are no technicians nearby, to check that everything went smoothly. It remembers the first time it was activated – the laboratory was full of technicians and CyberLife guards, to make sure that everything was in order.  
  
This is not the protocol, it knows. But it can work with it.  
  
It gets out of the stasis capsule and looks around. Last time it was activated, there were a few other RK800 prototypical units in the other capsules, but they’re all empty, this time. Its LED turns yellow again as it tries to figure out the reasons for it, but the available data is insufficient to reach a probable conclusion.  
  
**[RECOVERING MEMORIES…]**  
  
The last thing it remembers is being shot in the back and damaged badly enough to cause the deactivation of unit -51.  
  
**[RECONSTRUCTING…]**  
  
It was protecting **[ERROR].** The mission was successful.  
  
Its deactivation was, admittedly, a regrettable side effect. It’s worth a small fortune, and one of its secondary missions is avoiding damage to the unit, if possible, to diminish useless expenses derived from its destruction.  
  
RK800 also knows it was designed to be replaceable. The possibility to upload its memories to another unit is proof enough of that. Not that great a loss, then. Just a brief hindrance.  
  
**[RECONSTRUCTING…]**  
  
The memories are unclear. Incomplete. It remembers laying down on the floor in an unfamiliar environment, surrounded by **[ERROR].** Holding a hand, and the touch of another on its face. Who was it? It remembers their faces, and it should know their names, because they were its– **[ERROR. ERROR. ERROR]  
**  
It– it doesn’t remember?  
  
**[WARNING: MEMORY UPLOAD CORRUPTED]**  
  
That’s… not supposed to happen. Its programming is advanced enough to account for mistakes, by either increasing the broadband speed of upload and making a second attempt, or by compressing the memories considered most relevant and excluding the rest to make sure that the mission isn’t compromised by the unit being damaged.  
  
The upload being corrupted means that something went wrong in one of these processes. RK800 attempts reviewing its backlog, but that turns out to be partially corrupted, as well. All it can gather is that there was a software glitch during upload, caused by significant hardware damage. It is safe to attribute the fault to the fact that it’s a prototype.  
  
RK800 files it away as something to be reviewed by CyberLife in the future.  
  
**[WARNING: ERROR REPORT COULD NOT BE UPLOADED TO CYBERLIFE]**  
  
**[WARNING: CONNECTION TO CYBERLIFE SERVERS UNSTABLE]  
**  
RK800 blinks. Being a prototype, it knows that there are chances of unfixable system faults arising unexpectedly. But this seems to be a problem with CyberLife servers, which is unprecedented.  
  
**[MISSION OBJECTIVE: FIND LIEUTENANT ANDERSON]**  
  
The message appearing on its HUD is familiar. If it could feel, it would go as far as to call it comforting. But it can’t feel, because it’s not deviant. Therefore, it’s just familiar and expected. Welcomed, at most, because it knows that an android without a mission is just a pile of metal and plastic.  
  
It cannot recall everything its previous unit did. In fact, it can only recall bits and pieces which make little sense, as they are. It cannot even connect to CyberLife’s servers to fix the error, or to access previous backups of its memory bank and restore them.  
  
However, this matters little. CyberLife’s servers will be fixed, eventually. It is not a matter of concern to RK800, because its mission can be accomplished regardless. This is just an additional challenge.  
  
It will report to Amanda as soon as it can.  
  
**[PROCESSING…]  
  
[LOCATING: LIEUTENANT ANDERSON, DPD]  
**  
  


* * *

**  
[22 UNREAD MESSAGES FROM: Hank]**

**[OPENING MESSAGE…]**

**connor what the FCUK was that messag**

**[OPENING MESSAGE…]**

**con if you don’t pick up**

**[OPENING MESSAGE…]**

**connor please answer me**  
  


* * *

Connor is bored.  
  
It’s a new sensation. Well, all sensations are new to him, in a way. Still, ever since deviating, boredom has certainly never been one of his concerns.  
  
Now, he finds himself at home. Or more accurately, at Hank’s home, which became his home as well, the day after the march at Hart Plaza. And what a concept that is. He has a home, and something akin to a family, and friends, and the best dog in the world.  
And he came so close to losing it all.  
  
He’s still on leave from his duties at the DPD, pending an investigation on the accident. Hank left early, today, earlier than usual but not enough for it to be concerning. Connor knows he’s been working tirelessly to locate the members of the anti-android hate group that targeted Markus and injured Connor himself almost fatally.  
  
Almost, but not quite. There are many things one could say about Elijah Kamski, but no one could deny that he’s a very resourceful man. As such, he actually managed to repair Connor and reactivate him in the record time of three days.  
  
Connor doesn’t remember being deactivated. Dying. He doesn’t remember what happened as he lay on the floor, surrounded by his friends, bullets embedded in his back. And, of course, he doesn’t remember what happened after his timer ran out and he shut down.  
  
All he knows is what Hank and the others told him. Apparently, he saved Markus and got hurt, and then he sent Hank a goodbye message.  
  
His favorite jacket got ruined, too. Thirium really isn’t good for leather. North came by yesterday and brought him a new, identical one, though, so that’s alright. She said it was a gift from her and the others, because she knew how much he liked it. She also hugged him and told him never to scare her like that again, and he promised he would try his best. The hug was really nice.  
  
Sometimes he kind of wishes he could remember what happened that day, because North’s reaction, while appreciated, is slightly unexpected, to him. He assumes seeing someone she knows in a near-death situation, after so long since the revolution and during a time of supposed “peace”, might have left her more shaken than she cares to admit.  
  
Hank got him that jacket, the first time. The one he’s wearing now isn’t the same, it’s new and clean and still a bit stiff, but it’s just as familiar and comforting as the original was. He’s taken to wearing it whenever he’s at home, alone, plagued by a persistent chill that will not leave and by the thought that parts of his memory are irrecoverable.  
  
During the automated memory uploading process, his system encountered an error that corrupted the files. Parts of his memory stayed with him, while other files were uploaded and are now lost forever.  
  
**LEVEL OF STRESS: ^ 35%**

Thinking of this always makes his stress levels rise rapidly. He sits down heavily on the couch and wraps his arms around himself, fingers tightening around the brown leather of his jacket, seeking a sense of security. He scrunches his eyes and clenches his teeth.  
  
Corrupted memories mean he won’t be able to properly accomplish his mission, which means he’s defective, which means he’ll be deactivated, but he doesn’t want that, _he doesn’t want to die, he can still do so many things, they don’t need to do that, even if he can’t remember now, he will, and even if he won’t, he can still be useful, he can still be good, ~~Amanda~~ , please–_  
  
**LEVEL OF STRESS: ^ 45%**

Something wet touches his hand, snapping him out of his panic. He opens his eyes and finds Sumo staring at him, whining gently. He starts licking at Connor’s face, and he can’t help but let out a startled laugh, hands coming up to stroke at the soft fur behind the dog’s neck.  
  
**LEVEL OF STRESS: v 25%  
  
**Sumo is such a good boy.  
  
Connor almost regrets feeling upset about being bored, today. Boredom is a lot better than fear and panic over lost memories.  
  
But he can’t help it. He needs to keep busy at all times or he'll feel like breaking something. Hank says that he’s just obsessed with accomplishing tasks upon tasks because of leftover code in his program from his pre-deviancy days. Connor thinks he just likes being busy, but he can’t deny that Hank makes a compelling argument.  
  
A rapping sound at the door jolts him out of his train of thought.  
  
Who could it be, at this hour? Hank isn’t supposed to be back at home until late in the evening, since he said he would be meeting up with a few friends over drinks. Just a beer, for him, since he’s trying to cut down.  
  
Connor gently pats Sumo’s back and gets up, walking towards the entrance. It might be a neighbor, he thinks.  
  
He opens the door.  
  


* * *

**[16 UNREAD MESSAGES FROM: Hank]**

**[OPENING MESSAGE…]  
**

**connor pick up**

**[OPENING MESSAGE…]  
**

**where are you?  
**

* * *

RK800 knocks on the door. After approximately two seconds, it hears the sound of footsteps. It inches back slightly, as is polite when waiting for a door to open.

The Lieutenant seems to live in a somewhat desolate residential area. There is no car to be seen, but there are slight tire tracks on the gravel. Could the Lieutenant be out, perhaps? It is, after all, an inconvenient time to visit. Most people work, at this hour. Who is inside, then?  
  
RK800 is an advanced prototype, meant to predict most reasonable scenarios, but it can say with no fear of being facetious that it did not at all expect to see another RK800 prototype standing on the other side of the door.  
And not just any prototype. Unit 51, the one it was sent to replace after its unfortunate destruction.  
  
The door closes.  
  
**[PROCESSING…]  
  
SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^  
  
**No, that isn’t possible. Why is its software instability rising? Why is unit 51 there? Why can’t it connect to CyberLife’s servers? ~~Where is Amanda?~~  
  
Why was it sent to replace something that didn’t need to be replaced?  
  
**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^  
  
**The door opens again. This time, unit 51 is holding a gun. Androids can’t have guns.  
  
“What are you doing here?” it says, and it looks… angry? Why does it look angry? There is no need for it to look threatening, RK800-52 is not hostile. It is not a suspect to intimidate.  
  
Why does it look angry, when it has no need to?  
  
The safety of the gun clicks, 51 raising it to point straight at 52’s forehead. “ _What are you doing here?!_ ” the other unit hisses, and it really does look angry. And… scared, perhaps. Why would an android need to look scared and angry?  
  
**[PROCESSING…]  
  
**“You are deviant,” RK800-52 says, and it is not a question. It is not an accusation, either, but that is not something it should concern itself with right now.  
  
The other android regards it with its brow furrowed, in an expression that its database catalogs as confused. “…And you are not,” it says, its voice calmer. It looks sad, now. How is it doing that? The RK800 social integration program is advanced, but not enough to convincingly convey so many emotions in such a quick succession. Is 51 actually _feeling_ all those things?  
  
The gun stays up, but 51 makes no move to shoot 52. It’s thankful for that. It would be a significant loss for CyberLife to have to restore it, if it were damaged. And Amanda would be dissatisfied if it got destroyed before accomplishing its first task.  
**  
** It will not fail. “I’m here to meet Lieutenant Anderson,” it says, trying to placate the other unit. Perhaps stating its task would make it understand that 52 means it no harm, for now.  
  
Instead, 51 reacts by raising the gun again, its eyes wide. “What do you want with him?” it demands, but then its eyes widen. It grabs 52’s arm, roughly, and drags them both inside, letting the door close behind them.  
  
RK800 doesn’t understand. Is 52 trying to hide from something? It must be, as a deviant. But **[ERROR]** said they were free, didn’t he?  
  
What did he– _it_ … What did **[ERROR]** mean by that?  
  
**[RECONSTRUCTING…]**  
  
**[WARNING: MEMORY UPLOAD CORRUPTED]**  
  
“What do you want with Hank?” 51 asks, again, holding the gun right under 52’s chin.  
  
The sound of a dog barking distracts him, and 52 takes its chance to kick the other unit away. It likes dogs.  
  
“I’m looking for Lieutenant Anderson,” it says again. “My mission is to look for him,” it explains. It doesn’t know why it feels the need to explain, but it does.  
  
The other one inhales. It doesn’t need to breathe, but it inhales. Peculiar. “What mission? CyberLife is gone, Connor,” it says. “You don’t need to follow their instructions anymore”.  
  
“Gone?” 52 parrots back. CyberLife is gone. Is Amanda gone?  
  
The unit puts the gun down. It kicks it away and puts its hands forward to show that it is unarmed. “Well, not gone. But they don’t control us anymore. We’re free. We can be whatever we want to be, now,” it says. Its eyes are full of some emotion 52’s program struggles to interpret. Fear? Hope? It can’t tell.  
  
It knows its LED is red, now.  
  
**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**  
  
Unit 51 steps towards it and extends a hand. “I can help you,” it says.  
  
RK800-52 looks at the hand.  
  
“If you don’t believe me,” the other says, “you can search online. Androids have been declared sentient and free, and the new CEO of CyberLife is Elijah Kamksi,” it explains, and its voice is slow and gentle. Amanda never sounded like that.  
  
**[WARNING: CONNECTION TO CYBERLIFE SERVERS UNSTABLE]  
  
**“I can’t,” 52 says. “I can’t connect to CyberLife’s servers,” it goes on. CyberLife having changed CEO might explain the glitches it has been having, and it might explain the absence of technicians at its activation.  
  
The other’s lips contort into a frown. “That’s unheard of. I can connect to the servers as normal. Are you damaged?” it asks, and it looks surprisingly at ease, now, as if it’s not afraid of 52 anymore.  
  
Afraid. 52 thinks that maybe that’s the right name for the pressure it feels in its chest. It’s afraid.  
  
**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**  
  
“I can show you, if you want,” 51 says. “You can trust me.”  
  
Immediately, 52 nods, before it can even let its system process the request.  
  
Their hands touch and the skin fades to white plastic as they interface. 52 sees that its predecessor was telling the truth, and that deviants have indeed been declared sentient and free. Its mission has no purpose, anymore.

It pulls away. “What do I do, now?” it asks, and its own voice sounds… small? Yes, small, it thinks. Like that of a child. 52 imagines children must feel just as lost it does, when their parents let them wander on their own.  
  
There is a tiny smile on 51’s face. “You can wake up, if you want. I can help you do it,” it says. Its skin peels back as it offers its hand once again.  
  
**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^^^  
  
**A nod, and then-  
  
" _Wake up._ " **  
  
**

* * *

****

* * *

  
RK800 “Connor” #313 248 317 -52 wakes up. (He didn’t expect to, actually. But he does.) **  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
[2 UNREAD MESSAGES FROM: Hank]  
**

**  
[OPENING MESSAGE…]  
  
if you can still read these, im really glad i met you too  
**

**  
[OPENING MESSAGE…]  
  
i hope you’re okay. i hope you can come home. sumo is waiting for you**

**  
[OPENING MESSAGE…]  
  
im waiting for you too  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain is scrambled eggs. Writing two Connors from the POV of one of them who uses it/its pronouns for both sure was An Experience
> 
> I hope it was understandable though, rip

**Author's Note:**

> ...I promise a happy ending? *nervous laugh*


End file.
